


safer distance

by hanabi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad decisions are made, Blow Jobs, Friends With Benefits, Future Fic, I love mess, I promise, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oh and Also, Porn with Feelings, all that good stuff, but like a lot of feelings lol, sawamura daichi's sad sad dick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:22:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28846020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanabi/pseuds/hanabi
Summary: In retrospect, Daichi thinks with his heart in his throat, he probably should have asked at least a few questions before things had gotten to this point. Maybe asked a few clarifying questions, just to get him up to speed on the parameters, the expectations. Something to ground him so he can feel a little less lost at sea, carried out by the wild, unpredictable storm that is Sugawara Koushi.Though as Suga nibbles lightly at his bottom lip, pulling out a quiet hiss in return, he wonders if it would have made much of a difference. Maybe in another world, if he were another man—someone who knew how to say no to Suga, how to deny him anything that he really, truly asked for.Sawamura Daichi has never been that man.
Relationships: Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 15
Kudos: 37





	safer distance

**Author's Note:**

> edit @ 3/11 hello i promise i am still working on this but things at work have gotten frankly absurd in the last month and are only going to get worse so!!! please bear with me while i fight for my life

In retrospect, Daichi thinks with his heart in his throat, he probably should have asked at least a few questions before things had gotten to this point. Maybe asked a few clarifying questions, just to get him up to speed on the parameters, the expectations. Something to ground him so he can feel a little less lost at sea, carried out by the wild, unpredictable storm that is Sugawara Koushi.

Though as Suga nibbles lightly at his bottom lip, pulling out a quiet hiss in return, he wonders if it would have made much of a difference. Maybe in another world, if he were another man—someone who knew how to say no to Suga, how to deny him anything that he really, truly asked for.

Sawamura Daichi has never been that man.

“Ungh, Daichiii…” Suga whines close to his ear, continuing his entirely unprovoked assault on Daichi’s sanity. He’s impatient, which is never a good sign—Suga likes to get mean when he’s impatient. Especially with Daichi. “You’re supposed to get into it,” he complains, eyes big and lips pouty. _Kiss swollen,_ Daichi’s mind provides helpfully as he tries not to stare. “It’s not fun unless you get into it,” he continues, squirming urgently on his lap for emphasis.

Daichi lets out a hoarse, shaky laugh. _Fun,_ he repeats, feeling his ribcage deflate a little. He remembers the sparkle in Suga’s eyes and the soft edges around his voice when he’d brought it up, low light glimmering off the ice cubes in his drink in the izakaya they always meet at. When he’d turned his sly smile towards him and asked if he wanted to try something “fun for a change,” Daichi had only swallowed drily and nodded his head, too weak to say no and too hungry for it, anyway.

So he supposes it’s his own fault that he has no idea where he stands now even as Suga rocks his hips forward, shirt open and hanging at his elbows while he breathes heatless curses into Daichi’s mouth.

It's just that—of all the times he’d imagined having Suga like this, half naked, hard, and impatient in his lap, he’d imagined it differently. He’d imagined something rawly honest—some kind of confession, a first date, anything. He’d imagined punctuating each kiss he trails down Suga’s neck with the kinds of loving declarations that he’s fighting now to suppress. Most of all he’d imagined knowing, for sure, that Suga was his—that he’d be his—that he wanted to be his.

He hadn’t imagined it like this.

“Ha, sorry,” he manages to push out, readjusting his grip at Suga’s waist. His heart flutters in a pitiful protest as he does his best to obey, running his hands over Suga’s exposed back and gently sliding his shirt down, off his arms and to the floor. He tries not to falter when Suga makes a pleased sound somewhere between a moan and a giggle at his touch—soft, sweet, _impossibly_ sweet, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Daichi swears softly in return, hands trembling as he grips his waist, pulling him as close as he dares with all these questions still burning at his throat.

He has a vague memory of being the responsible one, at least in some circles, but none of that has ever really mattered when it comes to Suga, he reflects morosely. No matter what, when, or how, he’s always found ways to make Daichi indulge him, making him weak to the sight of honey brown eyes and coy smiles mixed with his brightest laugh, his sweet, sweet voice. Seeing the sparkle in Suga’s eye as he complained of the dry, dark monotony of winter _(Asahi’s gone, Tanaka’s married, our kids have all left the nest, it’s just you and me now Daichi how_ boring,) Daichi should have known that he never really stood a chance. For as long as Suga will ask things of him, Daichi has already answered yes.

“I can hear you overthinking,” Suga teases, pulling back just a little to peer at him carefully. “Do you wanna stop?” he asks, expression softening. Frantic, Daichi holds him firmly in place, earning a questioning eyebrow raise.

“No—” he stammers, too quickly not to be embarrassing. Suga smiles patiently and cocks his head to the side. Daichi had half expected him to laugh, tease him for being too desperate, too obvious. Somehow this gentle approach is more painful under the circumstances. Makes him feel more exposed, more pathetic. Pinned under the harsh light of his own cowardice. “No, I—I want to I just,” he rubs his thumbs absently against Suga’s sides, notes how soft his skin is. How badly he wants to keep touching him, in defiance of all common sense and what remains of his judgment. He swallows his pride with a dry gulp. “I’m just not really sure where to start.” He confesses it sheepishly, looking up into Suga’s eyes.

He looks pensive for a moment, and Daichi nearly suggests they put an end to it after all so he can, at the very least, preserve what remains of his dignity and their friendship. He doesn’t expect Suga to let out a thoughtful hum and murmur softly, almost purr, “I think I can help with that.”

Daichi struggles to process his meaning, only blinks at him in response. He thinks he almost sees a flash of shyness on Suga’s face, but it’s gone just as quickly as he imagined it.

“Stop me if you wanna stop me okay,” he says lucidly, eyes locked on Daichi’s. He sinks slowly off of his lap, onto his knees and looks up at him through silvery eyelashes. Then he drops his gaze, steady and deliberate, to the bulge in his jeans. Daichi feels himself gulp, eyes wide with what he’s sure must look like fear (and isn’t entirely convinced that it isn’t), but he nods. Suga grins back at him in response.

“Mmm, Daichi,” he breathes, running his hands down his chest and over his groin, palms just short of brushing against his dick, of caressing it on both sides. Daichi lets out a breath he hadn’t noticed he’d been holding, feels just about on the verge of passing out. His whole body feels taut like a live wire and he’s sure that whatever it is Suga has in mind, he’s not going to be able to handle very much of it.

“Suga…” he breathes miserably. He’s too scared to speak any louder than a whisper, all but certain that his traitor voice will lay him bare and expose the foolish, weak truth of his aching heart. Suga, on the other hand, lets out a happy sounding hum as he grips at Daichi through his jeans.

“So big,” he observes playfully, “lucky me.”

“Sh-shut up,” Daichi bites back through a gasp, face burning red. “You’ve seen it before.”

Suga makes a noncommittal sound of acknowledgment as he runs his hand over him once again, touch gentle but unambiguous. Daichi bites back a curse, drops his head back with a groan as he feels his dick grow harder at the attention.

“Not in a long time,” Suga pouts, as though this is a legitimate complaint, “and not like this.” He moves his finger to the button of his jeans, looks up at Daichi with another indecipherable smile. “Can I?”

“You don’t have to—” Daichi gasps out, eyes wide in sudden panic. Suga only giggles in response, to which he finds himself blushing sullenly.

“Daichi, I _want_ to. It’s supposed to be fun, remember?”

The word _fun_ clatters around between Daichi’s ribs a few more times for emphasis, and he does his best to swallow his heart back down. He has no idea what kind of face he’s making, but Suga continues to peer up at him, patient smile unabated. His hand is unmoving, waiting for Daichi’s assent. After a deep inhale and a shaky exhale, he receives it.

With a grin, Suga makes quick work of Daichi’s fly, peels his underwear back with all the enthusiasm of a birthday boy unwrapping a long awaited present. After what’s felt like an eternity, Daichi’s dick springs free, red and thick and _embarrassingly_ hard. Suga makes a pleased noise in his throat at the sight, eyes big and bright as though it’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

Even through all the guilt, Daichi can’t help but wish that it was.

Then he sucks in a sharp breath when Suga does the unthinkable and takes it in hand, flattening his tongue against the underside and licking it from base to tip. Daichi curses, feels just about to pass out at the sensation when he turns his attention to suckle lovingly at the head. _How am I supposed to survive this,_ he pleads silently to the unforgiving cosmos, tempted to bite his fist if it will keep him from making at least a fraction of the embarrassing sounds that threaten to pour out of him. Instead, he runs his fingers softly over Suga’s forehead to push his hair away from his eyes. Suga looks up then, his eyes meeting Daichi’s with his pink lips wrapped around his cock and oh, _god,_ Daichi’s not going to make it.

The face that he’s making must be humiliatingly comical, he thinks as he watches Suga’s eyes crinkle at the corners. He starts sucking him off in earnest now, hollowing his cheeks and taking him in deeper than anyone else Daichi can remember. Cluttered thoughts of _when_ and _who_ rattle sadly in Daichi’s throat, and he just manages to suppress them, too lost in the sight and sound and feel of Suga’s head bobbing in his lap. He feels more than hears Suga hum happily around his dick, and lets out a dense groan in response.

“Suga... fuck,” he breathes shakily. His knuckles are white from how hard he’s gripping at the edge of the bed, trying to fight the urge to grab onto Suga’s hair and thrust up into that wet heat, fucking his friend’s throat for all it’s worth. He wonders if he’d like it, and holds back a feeble whimper at the thought. He nearly fails when Suga pulls off with a lewd pop and starts tonguing at his slit, lapping up the small bead of precum that develops there with a smile.

He seems strangely collected, there with his mouth around Daichi as though none of this is remotely strange to him. Maybe it really isn’t. He’s heard enough about Suga’s sexual exploits over the years to know that a casual hookup every now and then isn’t exactly out of the ordinary for him. But Daichi’d always thought, in the moments of weakness when he let his thoughts drift in this direction, that it’d be different if it was with him. Special, even.

Daichi had always hoped that where Suga was concerned, he would always be just a little bit special.

He curses, trying to dismiss his pointless thoughts as Suga pops off of him again, wrapping his hand loosely around Daichi’s dick and stroking at a leisurely pace.

“Should we do it?” he asks lightly, far too lightly, Daichi thinks, given the situation. Daichi’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth to reply, throat too dry to make any real sound.

Suga pulls away slightly, far enough for Daichi to worry that he’s changed his mind after all, until he sees him rifling around in his coat pocket. With a grin, he pulls out a condom and a small bottle of lube, and Daichi barely suppresses a scoff in disbelief. _So he actually planned this,_ he thinks, the realization fraying at the battered remnants of his sanity. “Unbelievable,” he says in his best retired captain voice, though it lacks bite. Suga only waggles his eyebrows in response, entirely unrepentant.

Daichi leans back onto his elbows and takes in the sight of his friend—tousled, flushed, and obviously hard inside his jeans—and wonders what he could have possibly done to deserve this. He scoots back on the bed and beckons Suga towards him, feeling a guilty rush of relief when he joins him readily, straddling Daichi’s hips as he leans in for a hungry, eager kiss. Daichi pulls him in with purpose now, hands settling around the small of his back as he coaxes his mouth open with his tongue. He feels his brain nearly short circuit when he tastes himself there, and Suga melts into his touch, syrupy and warm as though he was born to be held by Daichi.

As though he’s wanted this as much as he has.

Suga is growing more and more impatient, pressing their hips together and Daichi registers dimly, with Suga’s bottom lip caught between his teeth, that he must be smearing a trail of precum across the front of his friend’s pants. If Suga’s noticed he appears unbothered; if anything, he seems more offended that Daichi could have the audacity to still be wearing a shirt this far into their proceedings.

“Off, off,” he murmurs insistently, punctuating his demand by tugging it up to his armpits, trying to force the back of it over his head.

“Fuck—Suga—” Daichi scolds, releasing his hold on his waist so he can pull himself free from the cotton prison his friend has trapped him in. He throws the shirt aimlessly to the side, tries to pull him back in—but Suga, as always, seems to have other plans.

“Ohh, Daichi, _fuck_ yeah,” he rhapsodizes, running his hands down his chest in unambiguous approval. He cups his pecs in his hands, trails his fingers down his abs, runs his palms against the sharp dip of his waist, the cut of his hips. Daichi feels frozen in place at the attention, unsure of what to do with it. “Daichi... You’re super hot,” Suga says at last, eyes twinkling.

Daichi groans, letting his head fall back with a heavy, exaggerated roll of his eyes, but Suga only gives him a delighted laugh in response. “I’m serious!” he insists, running his palms over his shoulders, lingering with purpose over the defined muscles of his traps. “Anyone would say so, Daichi. Did you not know?”

“Quit messing with me,” Daichi mumbles sullenly, placing his hands back on Suga’s hips to ground him there, if nothing else.

“I’m not!” Suga repeats with a pout, pinches him vengefully on the arm for good measure. Daichi hisses in pain, glowers darkly at his friend. It’s nice to hear, of course, but his heart can’t handle much more of the attention. Not after it’s been craving it for so long—he refuses to let himself come so dangerously close to confusing this for hope. He almost fails, though, when Suga drops his forehead against his, makes another roll of his hips. “You’re a total wet dream right now,” he murmurs, voice and eyelids low with intent.

Daichi growls at this, pulls Suga in close to him with one arm, leaning on the other to flip their positions. He pushes Suga down against the bed beneath them, swallows his soft gasp with a kiss. If nothing else, he hopes it’s as much of an incentive as he needs to change the subject and return to the task at hand. Gradually, he settles his weight on him, dropping his hips down between Suga’s legs as he pushes his tongue into his mouth. Suga lets out a moan, greedy and luscious as he pushes back with his own tongue, lifts his hips to grind against Daichi’s, smile unfaltering.

Daichi thinks he might be losing his mind having Suga under him like this, making sounds he’d only let himself imagine in dreams. Feeling pliant and warm and so, so much more eager, needy even, than he could ever have expected. They should have set some rules on kissing, on saying names—but he can’t pretend to be sorry when he presses kisses down Suga’s neck and feels his erection press against him, hard and eager with Daichi’s name on his breath. How easy it becomes, he thinks with some guilt, to pretend that all of this is because Suga wants _him,_ not just a fun way to wear away the long winter nights.

Then something presses into his palm and he pulls back slightly, waiting for his brain to catch up to what his eyes are seeing. The condom and the lube, he registers slowly.

“Fuck,” Daichi breathes, eyes wide as the reality of the situation starts to hit him, washing over his body like a cold wave. _“_ Suga…” he starts hoarsely, pausing briefly to clear his throat. “Are you really sure you want to do this?” He hesitates, then adds, “...with me?”

Suga stares at him quizzically for a moment, then makes a sound between a laugh and a groan. “Daichi,” he teases, shooting him a cheeky and exasperated grin, “I’m sure that if you don’t fuck me in the next couple minutes I’m gonna have to kick you out so I can do it myself.”

Daichi pulls away with a roll of his eyes as he puts the lube and condom off to the side, reaches for the button in Suga’s jeans. “You can’t kick me out of my own home,” he tries scolding, though it feels weak and unauthoritative as it escapes his throat. He hopes Suga doesn’t notice the tremble in his hands, the shakiness of his breath. Though at this point, he’s not sure how he couldn’t.

“Watch me,” Suga quips, lifting his hips to help Daichi ease him out of his pants and his underwear in one long pull.

Daichi swallows at the sight of him there, naked and hard and fully exposed and _god,_ looking so much better than Daichi had ever dared imagine. _Would you still want it,_ he asks silently as he wraps a hand around Suga, _if you knew that I love you?_ He leans in for another kiss, if nothing else but to silence himself, keep the words from spilling out. Though as Suga whimpers into his mouth, pushes up into Daichi’s touch, he can’t help wondering if this isn’t as bad, if not worse.

“Daichi… _Daichi,”_ Suga hisses after a moment, pushing slightly at his bicep. Daichi hurriedly pulls his hand back in response, staring down at him with wide, terrified eyes. He swallows dryly, certain that he’s changed his mind after all—that at least one of them had let common sense catch up to them, and of course, it wasn’t Daichi. That is, until Suga lifts his hips slightly and bites his lip, letting a quiet little “need you now…” and Daichi feels his vision white out.

“Right… Yeah,” he replies hoarsely, tongue darting out absently to moisten his lips. He pulls back to grab at the lube, watching himself move as though from outside of his body. But when Suga leans back on his elbows to smile at him, eyes hazy with lust and lips pink and plump from kissing, the surge of arousal that courses through Daichi is more than enough to pull him back in.

He uncaps the lube with shaky hands, smears it over his fingers as he watches Suga bend his knees to grant him easier access. It’s so mindblowingly intimate, Daichi thinks as he takes hold of one leg, and looks into Suga’s eyes as he brushes his finger gently against his entrance, experimentally. Suga breathes out a soft little whimper but he’s smiling, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He lets his other knee splay out to the side invitingly, looking positively sinful with his flushed cock hard and leaking slightly from the tip.

Daichi holds his breath as he pushes a finger inside, watching intently as Suga gasps quietly, pinching his eyebrows together as he bites down a little harder on his bottom lip. He tries moving it slowly, pumping in and out a few times before curling it tentatively. Suga throws his head back with a soft “ha, Daichi…” eyes hooded and unfocused as he sends him a languid grin.

For some reason, it’s the last straw for Daichi. He lets out a low growl and pulls his finger out, only to add a second just a moment after. He starts to really finger him now, feels a shiver course through himself when he feels more than hears him whisper, “god, yes, fuck, yeah.” He stretches him carefully but hungrily, feeling himself blush at the obscene sounds that the lube makes between them—the obscene noises coming from his friend.

He leans forward to kiss him as he works, covering his body with his broad chest as he presses his fingers in deeper, stretches him wider. He presses his tongue in deeper which each push of his fingers, drinking in his friend’s whines as though he needs them to survive. Now that he’s heard them, he thinks maybe he does. Suga starts squirming underneath him, bucking his hips and trying to guide his fingers in deeper. “Daichi, ngh, Daichi…” he urges, then tenses with a sharp “ah!“ when he curls them again, brushing up against his prostate. Daichi lets out a shaky breath, eyes fixed on Suga’s as he lightly presses at it again.

“Nnnnh,” Suga whines, sounding strung out and wonderful beyond belief. He grips onto Daichi’s arm but doesn’t push or pull, simply holds onto him as he pants softly. “Daichi I’m gonna—I need—please Daichi please, I need you now, I need,” he babbles urgently, slipping his hands down to grab at Daichi’s neglected dick.

“Fuck, Suga,” Daichi hisses, pulling his hand out to swat at his wrists. Suga whines petulantly, struggling against him, bucking his hips up fruitlessly when Daichi pins his hands by his head. “You’re _too much like this,”_ Daichi growls next to his ear, half in awe, half in agony. He tries not to feel too proud of how much he seems to want it—how much he seems to want _him_.

The thought escapes him instantly the moment he watches the corners of Suga’s eyes crinkle petulantly. “Come on, Daichi,” he bites with his most innocent looking smile. Daichi remembers a simpler time, ages ago, when he might have been taken in by it, fallen under its spell. He knows better than to fall for it now—better than to be surprised to hear his next words, delivered with a sparkle in his eye and a grin on his voice. “Fuck me with your big cock already.”

Daichi groans with a heavy eye roll. “Maybe I don’t want to now,” he grumbles, even as he leans back, shifts his legs over the side of the bed to pull his pants down and off.

“Mm, get over yourself, Sawamura,” Suga teases, nudging playfully at Daichi’s shoulder with his foot. “Everyone knows you’ve been in love with me since high school.”

Daichi feels his heart stutter in his chest, thanks whatever trickster god saw fit to put him through this for at least allowing him the dignity of facing the other way to collect himself. “Of course,” he manages after a couple breaths, forcing out a chuckle that he hopes doesn’t quite sound as bitter as it feels traveling up his throat. “What’s not to love?”

“Exactly,” Suga quips back, sounding incredibly pleased with himself as Daichi returns to kneel on the bed, condom wrapper in hand. He’s propped back up on his elbows now, peering up at Daichi hungrily through his eyelashes. He looks flushed and tousled and so, so perfect. _How am I supposed to look at him after this,_ Daichi asks, fully knowing that the time to worry about it is already long, long past.

He swallows, throat dry, before leaning in for another kiss, softer, chaster than any of the others they've shared so far. He worries, distantly, that he's let himself get too used to kissing him, too easily and too soon. How much he'll miss it when this inevitably comes to an end. He sighs into the gesture as Suga reciprocates in kind, following his lead in this if in nothing else. Honoring the fragility of the moment as though he, too, is afraid to find out when it might shatter. He looks up at Daichi, eyes big and questioning. 

“Ready?” he asks at last, lips shiny and red. Daichi nods wordlessly, transfixed as he fumbles with the condom wrapper in his hand. Dimly, he registers him leaning back again onto the bed, pressing his own slicked fingers inside himself as he watches Daichi, eyes sweeping over his body hungrily. Daichi curses and tears the condom from its wrapper, rolls it on before settling back between Suga’s thighs. His hands are shaking as he picks up the bottle of lube and smears it over his fingers, over his cock.

He watches Suga continue to work himself open on his own fingers before adding his own alongside them. Suga drops his head back and lets out a loud, hungry moan, pushing down and trying to fuck himself on their two hands. Daichi watches him intently—the pinch of his eyebrows together, the way that he worries at his bottom lip. The levity seems to have left him now, replaced only with hunger and urgency. He chants Daichi’s name in his ear as he urges him onwards, whines so desperately Daichi thinks he might start crying when he pulls his fingers out, coaxing Suga’s out with them.

“I know, I know, I got you baby,” Daichi whispers, no longer able to hold back the endearment as he arranges a leg over his shoulder. He angles Suga’s hips upwards towards his own, supporting his other leg with a hand under his thigh. Then he pushes in slowly, steadily, until he’s fully inside him, breathless and enraptured.

“Nngh, Daichi,” Suga mumbles, smiling hazily as he moves his hips shallowly, as much as he can with Daichi holding him the way he is. He feels so tight and so hot and so _right,_ Daichi thinks, gripping at him like the vice that he is.

“Fuck,” Daichi breathes, throat full of wonder and awe and thinly veiled adoration. His cover must be blown by now, he’s sure of it, but he’s finding it harder to care, harder to remember why he was holding it back to begin with. “You good?” he asks, giving an experimental roll of his hips.

“’Mgood,” Suga slurs, trying to pull him closer. “So good, Daichiii,” he moans, trailing off at the end. He wiggles his hips slightly, making pleased sounding noises at each careful, measured press of Daichi further inside him. Daichi half expects him to tease again, to try provoking him with a mischievous sparkle and a challenge to _just fuck me already._ He doesn’t expect this—his friend stripped of his usual defenses, looking so soft and vulnerable in Daichi’s bed, against his pillows. It’s a dangerous look for him, dangerous for Daichi—makes him want to give him anything and everything, everything he hasn’t asked him for already.

Daichi’s chest aches with the thought and he grunts out a small curse as he begins to pick up the pace. He starts fucking into him more intently now, hips slapping against Suga’s thighs as he presses deeper with every thrust. “Mmph, god, Daichi, _oh—”_ he babbles, his earlier composure all lost as Daichi grips his legs a little more firmly, driving him deeper into the mattress.

Daichi takes in the sight of everything he’s ever wanted—Suga, slackjawed, legs splayed wide open and boneless as he begs desperately for Daichi’s cock. He notes the way he clenches around him, the way his voice pitches in a sharp whine, toes curling when Daichi locates his prostate and presses right up against it. The way his cock bobs between them with every thrust, flushed and heavy and leaking a trail of precum over his stomach. The way he chants Daichi’s name, over and over as he pounds into him, face contorted in pleasure as though this is what he truly wants—as though he _craves_ something only Daichi can give him, and no one else.

Daichi curses at the thought, throat tight around the swell of trapped adoration trying to claw its way to the surface. _You’re so good for me Koushi, so tight and so pretty,_ he chants silently, senseless praise inside his head, too far gone now to stop himself from thinking the words he’s desperate to say. _I’ll fuck you however you like, whenever you want, as much as you want from me it’s yours._

Suga whines loudly, as if in response to the words left unsaid and he clenches around Daichi, so tight and so hot. “Please, Daichi, oh fuck, I’m so close—I need,” he babbles, eyebrows pinched helplessly together and he looks—so honest, Daichi thinks, so vulnerable and laid bare. He’s gripping onto Daichi’s arms so tightly, as though he might fly apart at the seams if he should somehow fall away from him, if he were forced to let go.

Daichi widens his eyes and plunges in deeper, harder, faster, pushing against his prostate as many times as he can manage. “I got you, I got you…” he whispers nonsensically, cradling the back of his head as he tries to take him closer, closer, as close as he can with so much left unsaid still between them.

Suga comes surprisingly quietly, with a feeble gasp and a whimper of Daichi’s name as his come splatters between them. He clenches tight around Daichi, shivering underneath him as he holds him in place greedily, continuing to milk him through his own orgasm while gasping heavy, hungry breaths. The sight, the sensation forces a low curse out of Daichi and he curls over his friend, pulling him into a bruising kiss. He comes like that, hips continuing to thrust lazily into Suga as his tongue pushes hungrily into his mouth, swallowing his sleepy, sated sounding _“Daichi…”_ as he spends himself inside the condom.

_Fuck,_ Daichi thinks, looking down at the mess he’s made—a mess of his friend, a mess of his bed, a mess of his aching, desperate heart. _Fuck, fuck fuck_ , he repeats for good measure as he buries his face in Suga’s shoulder after a moment, moves to pull out of him slowly. _Fuck,_ he thinks as he pulls the condom off, _fuck,_ he thinks as he knots it and throws it into the trash can.

Then he risks a glance at Suga, still lying back with a lazy grin, legs spread open, looking like sin itself, fucked out and sated beyond belief. _Fuck,_ Daichi thinks as he takes in the sight of him, sweaty and come splattered, lips red and puffy against his pale skin, bruises forming on his inner thighs.

“Fuck,” he says out loud for emphasis.

**Author's Note:**

> phew............. come say hi @lilytheas


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